The Red X
by furturtle
Summary: So this is part of a collection of work where i am basing the story off of a work of art. I based this on is and abstract painting by Hans Hoffman titled "Laburnum." This story follows the typical day of a bight minded high school girl that has the absolute worst day of her life. I really wanted to promote the benefits of art therapy. I hope you enjoy. Please Review


The potent smell of rich coffee filled the kitchen. I giggled as Uncle Emilio groaned as he inhaled his coffee.

"Macie, I honestly don't know how you're awake right now," he says laying his forehead on the cool countertop.

"The rest of Seattle is awake, I don't understand how you're like this every morning." I say finishing up my toaster strudel. I get my backpack and hull it over my shoulder. "Come on, I have school and you have to get to the studio, you have clients coming at eight."

Uncle Emilio dragged his feet to the door. I scan him up and and drown, he was wearing a graphic t-shirt with the "Hang in there" cat and bohemian printed pants. "What?" he asked.

I laughed, "That's a look."

He rolled his eyes "Let's go," grabbing his hoodie and his umbrella.

We walked 9 blocks before parting ways at Spring street. I crossed the street to go to school the was one block further and he turned the corner where his art studio was a few doors down.

"Hey Mr. Cabello" I said waving to my boss as he swept the entrance to the coffee shop, "I'll be in for work 3 sharp like always,"

"Thanks Macie you never let me down," he smiled with a wave. His shop was quaint and modeled after a small french cafe in New York City, where he met his late wife.

The day at school was mundane, Jean and Karen wanted me to go out to the mall with them but I had to work and had way too much homework. After the coffee shop closes at seven, I walk over to my uncle's studio and help him close at 8. I pick at the dried paint on the pallets he used this morning and forgot about, then I sweep, mop, and wipe down the tables.

I make my way up to the loft and start on my homework. By the time we had gotten home after we had picked up take out, it was nine and I was already falling asleep but I have 2 chapters in English, 30 math equations that I know is going to take me an hour, and a five page essay. I take a deep breath, I make a plan to efficiently get it done. I've done this much before, and the more I'm thinking about doing homework, I was not actually getting any of it done. I decide to start on the research essay I write and read aloud "Hans Hofmann was an american artist who lived from 1880 -1966."

I wake up to the sound of the shower, I'm always the first one up. I look at my phone _7:49_ _Wednesday, March 7th_ _,_ my eyes widen "No, no, no" I look at my phone and my body sank "and five percent battery." I shove all of my text books in my bag and change into something that didn't smell like coffee from the cafe and last night's take out.

I yell as I run to the door "Uncle, we have to go."

"I was going to let you stay home. You're 16 years old and never played hookie." He says.

"That's right and I'm not starting now" I said pulling him out the door.

"But my coffee" he whined.

"Just get some from Mr. Cabello" I made a beeline for Spring street about 10 paces in front Uncle Emilio.

"Okay bye, I thought I was cool enough to walk with you," he laughs as my pace increased. I didn't have the time to turn back. I make it to school just as the bell rings.

"Turn in your essays on the artists of the abstract movement. If you didn't finish you'll need to stay after school. No Exceptions!" Mrs. Zeller chanted to the class as I ran in. I hurried to my seat and pulled out my paper. _Hans Hofmann was an american artist who lived from 1880 -1966._ I read that sentence over and over in my mind, that's all that was there, that is all I had for an essay that was supposed to be a five page paper. My eyes grow wide as my heart sank. Mrs. Zeller floated through the rows of desks. She had her hand out waiting for my report. I continued to stare at the sentence I had written. She passes by clicking her tongue.

After class, I felt it best to become my own lawyer and make my case but Mrs. Zeller had beaten me too it. I rose from my seat.

"Miss Batel," she said, "I am very disappointed that you didn't turn in your essay, It's unlike you. "

I swallowed my breath "I know, I really tried," I began to ramble, "I got home kind of late and then didn't wake up on time." My heart pounded as I tried to piece together a better excuse.

"I need this report by today," she folded her arms "You'll have to stay after school to finish it."

My mouth hung open "No, I can't stay after school. I have a job I have to get to by 3."

"There is now way you can write a 5 page paper in 20 minutes. But there is nothing I can do for you. It's either stay after school to write the paper or fail the class." Mrs. Zeller said.

My face turned red. "Look! It's not for a matter of not trying. I cannot just stay after school" I had never raised my voice to anyone, my grades weren't the best, but I had never accepted a failing grade and a wasn't going to let this weird funk change that.

"Go, to the office if you are refusing to adhere to my classroom policy," She said sliding the write slip of paper to me.

I stared at the paper, pinched it in my hand and studied it carefully. I found myself smiling remembering Uncle Emilio telling me the times he was sent to the office as if they were battle stories. He wasn't a bad kid, he was just always the class clown never really taking teachers too seriously, that's what would get him into trouble. Then he would tell me how my mom who was two years older than him would have to bail him out of his more sticky situations.

My mom had died in a car accident before I was two. And I had never known my dad, Uncle Emilio told me he didn't know much about him either, only that he was my mom's boyfriend when she was in college. During that time her and Uncle Emilio didn't talk that much, It wasn't until I was a few months old that Uncle Emilio moved in with the two of us to help take care of me.

What's good is that I never felt the need for anyone else in my life, I had Uncle Emilio, Mr. Cabello, Jean and Karen at school. It's all I needed.

I had reached the front office and handed the note to the Ms. James, who was on the phone. She had looked up for a second and pointed to the empty row of chairs against the window. I had picked the one next to the filing cabinet and I had pulled out the homework I didn't finish.

I had felt like I was in there for hours, I could hear the ticking but I couldn't find where the clock was. Ms. James had finally gotten off the phone and looked over at me and down at her watch. Her eyes had widen "Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry, second period is almost over. Get to class. I'll tell Mr. Durell you were here and he'll pull you out if he needs to speak with you."

I had grabbed my things and left without saying anything. I was a little mad that I had wasted an entire hour and a half sitting there but I finished the homework that I didn't do last night, all but that essay.

Jean and Karen waited with concern in the patio.

"Hey guys," I said.

Jean painted on a smile "Hey!"

"You missed 2nd period, what happened" Karen asked.

"Ya I know," I fake smiled too, "Mrs. Zeller sent me to the office and I was there the entire period, for no reason I might add. She is also making me stay after school to finish a paper and it's going to make me late to work."

"Hey, that reminds me," Jean cheered "you had missed the funniest thing at the mall yesterday we were walking out of H&M and this guy ..." he laughed uncontrollably.

Karen hit his arm with the back of her hand "We'll tell you later, hey I need your help with that music comp class project we should get that done now" she said to Jean. She had noticed that I was looking annoyed and uninterested in their story. I wasn't meaning to be but there was no way I could let Mr. Cabello know I was going to be late to work and there was no way I could finish that paper on time.

Having now kicked my friends to the wasteside completely, I walk toward the cafeteria and realize that I haven't eaten all day. I sit down and look in my bag, normally I would have packed a lunch in the morning but I obviously didn't do that. The cafeteria charges five dollars for a meal and even more for anything worth eating. I kept digging and found a smashed chocolate chip granola bar that I threw in there several months ago and completely forgot about. The glue that had held the wrapper on at one point was partly gone and a few oats rolled out as I set it on the table before I even proposly opened it. I picked at it as I worked on that essay.

Lunch was over before I could finish the first page of my essay. I had went to the rest of my classes just fine. Dreading that Mr. Durell, the principal, would have called me to his office at any moment. More so because it would mean I would have to get up in front of everyone to make my way to the door.

Thankfully that never happened. The final school bell rang at 2:40 but all that bell meant for me was disappointment. I had to face Mrs. Zeller who I had yelled at not even eight hours ago. I was disappointed in myself for falling asleep. I knew that Mrs. Zeller was disappointed in me and the Mr. Cabello would be disappointed I was not at work.

I dragged my feet up the hall and entered the room with the two guys that had always slacked off in that class who were throwing paper across the entire room. I stood at the door "Where's Mrs. Zeller?"

"In a meeting" One of them snickered as he threw the paper like he was an all star pitcher.

I look on her desk in the front of the roon to a paper with red marker on it reading _turn in essays here._ I sat at my desk and wrote like the wind. I had heard the guys sit in the chair in the very back of the room.

"What's she doing here? she's like top of the class isn't she?" one of them said failing to whisper.

The other boy shrugged. "I don't know" he said not even bothering to whisper.

I didn't turn around and acknowledge them at all. I just kept writing. Every so often I would stop and look at what I had so far. For some some reason it didn't seem to never reach five pages.

I finally finish six minutes till four o'clock. I stapled it together and dropped it on the piece of paper and ran strait for the school gate and to the coffee shop.

There was a line and a half outside of the door. I could just imagine Mr. Cabello fumbling around in there by himself. I had pushed my way through the line and called out to Mr. Cabello.

He looked at me with a panic, "Macie! Where were you? The new espresso machine broke and you know how to operate it better than I do and I haven't had a chance to wipe down tables for the incoming customers."

I pause to think, "Okay, I'll fix the machine and take orders. If you could wipe down the tables."

I start to tinker with the machine when a few angry customers began yelling their order at me. I grab my ordering notepad and jot down the screaming customers order. In the split second I took my attention away from the machine the nozzle sputtered, spilling hot coffee all over me. I jumped backed and screamed. It finished spraying coffee. I saw that there was a clogged coffee filter and it began to brew as normal.

I took a breath of relief and turned back to the line of cusumeter with a smile, "I apologize for the inconvenience. What can I get for you?"

Mr. Cabello and I work so well together, with everything up and running again the line moves smoothly. I am even able to make a few dollars in tips. The next customer was a thin man, that looked to be in the late 30's with curly dark hair. I had noticed him staring at me when he had stepped in line.

With a smile I said "I can take your order when your ready Sir."

He approached the counter with confidence "Macie Batel?"

I took my notepad and the pen and replied without looking up at him "Yes, may I take your order."

He orders a black coffee and a cherry tart. I turn around to make the man's order when I realize I wasn't wearing my apron with my name tag and I knew this man was not one of Mr. Cabellos regular consumers. I turn back around see that he had sat himself at a table in the center of the cafe.

"Mr. Cabello, I'm going to finish this order, then I'll wipe down the tables and sweep." I say to him. He nods and takes over taking the next order at the counter.

I carry the man's coffee and cherry tart to his table. "Here you are sir." I began to wipe a few of the the tables around me but my curiosity was getting the best of me. I turn back around "Excuse me sir, I'm just curious, I wasn't wearing my name tag at the counter how did you ..."

He had stops me with a small chuckle, "Please, can you pull up a chair?" Looking back at Mr. Cabello smiling after handing someone their order, before I slide into the chair across from the man. He continues to stare at me for a second more before he says, "You look like your mother."

Who is this guy? Uncle Emilio will sometimes, if he turns around to quickly will call me Elesia, my mom. I know that I look like my mother from pictures, but how does this man know my mother.

He continues, "I had looked up Batel in the Seattle yellow pages and an Emilio Batel art studio was the only number listed. I called and he had told me what had happened to Elly. The he had told me about you and that you work here."

 _Elly?_ I thought. "I'm sorry sir I don't understand," I said.

He laughed "My name is Lennon Kniepman, I am your father. Your mother never told me about you. In our last year of undergrad school she just became distant I thought it was because I was going to law school in Connecticut. But now that I know, I really want to be apart of your life."

I know in every movie that this would have been a happy moment because I had found this connection to my mother, my past that I never knew, and he's not a deadbeat he just never knew. I think that's what he was expecting too, but I don't feel that way at all. I didn't need this man in my life I didn't care what he had to tell me I was so angry I finally had a father and I didn't want him for no other reason then that I was fine without one. I just stared at the table.

Mr. Cabello stood behind me. "I'm sorry sir, we will be closing soon. I can wrap up the rest of your tart and send you with a fresh cup of coffee in a disposable cup." he says and then puts his hand "Macie, may I see you in the supply room?"

I nod and follow him to the back.

He says, "Macie is everything ok? You showed up late for work and then you sit down to talk with a customer."

I hold up a smile it was only a few more moments till this day would be over "Yes everything is fine I promise you, Mr Cabello, it will not happen again. I will clean the tables and the equipment before I mop."

He keeps eye contact with me as he grabs the to-go cup and paper bag. I grab the rag and the bucket of sudsy water. I get to wipe down the table where he was sitting and I see a small card on the seat. _Carl and Kniepman Law firm (206) 328-7882 extion 2._ I molded the card into a ball and shoved it in my pocket. I quickly finished the rest of the tables and turn off the machines before I officially closed the shop.

I finish work and ran to the studio, The sign on he door was flipped the the white board side reading _Sorry I missed you. I'm out running an errand. I will be back soon._ He had left the door unlocked so I let myself in. He had left the stereo on playing the Seattle orchestra. I flipped through the CD's, "Orchestra. Hawaiian. Weird al? Jazz, Tacky 80's rap, Indie covers, 50's, musicals, rainforest sounds," I laughed and rolled my eyes. The last CD was still in its packaging. I held it in my hand it was a heavy metal band that I've heard Karen talk about one or twice. I change out the CD ad let out a sigh.

I begin by putting away the the left out paint and the brushes. Placing the cans of paint on the shelf above the rack of blank canvases. The shelf continues to clutter as I stacked containers of paint one by one . Tripping on the rack and my hand slipped, a dark cobalt blue fell busting open and spattering the first canvas.

I took it and set it on an easel. I examined the spatter but all I could do was thing about this horrible day. I surrounded myself with the paint still laying around. Taking a dark red, I started to question to why was so tired last night, If only I didn't wake up late. I took the brush in my hand and dragged it in long strokes down the center. I found a bush and another palette with blues and brown. I start to think about all the little things: the annoying tick of the clock in the office, my disappointing, lunch, the snickers from the guys in class, the costumer's screaming their orders, the hot coffee.

I threw the brush down. I grabbed more brushes and more paint. I focused on one color at a time, first a baby pink. I thought about how I got to the office from waking up that morning, raising my voice at Mrs. Zeller. Then I grab the dew gold that I often hated. I thought how I almost lost my friends for my attitude because I didn't want to hear about the mall. A grabbed the purple and thought about not wanting to talk about what's wrong with Mr. Cabello.

Then I started to think about Lennon. How he had the audacity to come to the coffee shop. I screamed to the music as I continued to paint. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know Uncle Emilio. He doesn't know my mother. I don't what him in my life.

I finish it with a large red X. I sat in the the corner and cry until Uncle Emilio returned.


End file.
